


Miracles

by hermitknut



Category: Realm of the Elderlings - Robin Hobb
Genre: Other, Smut, emotional smut, hobb doesn't so I figured I'd try not to, no particular anatomy specified, timeframe unspecified but probably circa tawny man or later, yes I know it's written in second person don't judge me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:17:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermitknut/pseuds/hermitknut
Summary: You have seen and felt many things in your long life as prophet, but you know that this is the best of them all.





	Miracles

You have seen and felt many things in your long life as prophet, but you know that this is the best of them all. And that’s odd, isn’t it, because when you think about it it’s so ordinary, so universal. Not like seeing a stone dragon fly or carving live wood that speaks to you as you work. And yet, and yet… you know this is the pinnacle of all your experiences. It’s not so much the physical pleasure – though you have no complaints – as it is the level of trust, of acceptance, of emotional connection… or perhaps there’s something in the combination of the two. Your cool skin against Fitz’s warmth, facing each other, his arms around you, his hands pressing across your back – your hands touching him in response, one wound into his hair and the other curled against the side of his neck. You frequently forget to touch him when he’s kissing you, a fact that he’s aware of and likes to exploit. You get lost in not just the sensation of your mouth on his but the knowledge of all that this means to him, and to you, and to the history you share and the future you will create. You get caught in the connection so strongly sometimes that you forget to move, forget to do anything but just lie there and _feel_.

You know that Fitz has noticed when he smiles into your kiss. Sometimes he’ll just continue – he knows the pleasure you take in this and he’s more than content to be the source of it – but sometimes he’ll tease, pulling away in hitches and breaths until you gasp after him and pull him close again.

He trusts you in a way he trusts no one else, and sometimes you wonder if he’s even completely aware of it – the way everything about him seems opened up in a way that Fitz never otherwise is. It’s breathtaking, and you adore him for it. The two of you could kiss for hours like this, you sometimes think. But Fitz’s hands are steady and knowledgeable, and if every murmured name and wordless cry seems inevitable that’s all right – you’ve always been half in love with fate. Inevitability is as much your birthright as change is Fitz’s.

He turns the two of you so that you’re flat on your back, and starts to kiss his way down your neck. You wonder how a simple thing can be so overpowering.

Fitz shifts his body to bring his mouth up to your ear.

‘You think too much,’ he murmurs. It’s a familiar tease. You once asked him how he always knew when you’d got lost in thought. He had smiled and suggested that he was just good at guessing.

‘Then distract me,’ you answer with just a hint of command. He bites down gently on your earlobe and hums, pleased, when your whole body shudders in response and your hands read upwards to run along his chest and shoulders. His mouthing at your neck makes you arch your back up to him and he very carefully meets you, wary of putting his full weight on you like this. He’s so cautious when it comes to risking you, is Fitz, but unlike in the past it doesn’t make you feel condescended to. You know you take up less space than him but you’re strong enough to hold your own, and you lie there and remember turning Fitz onto his back and holding his wrists out of the way as you took your time. You remember the sounds he made, the soft spills of your name as he came apart. You smile; you will do that again some time. But for now you are content with rocking up to meet Fitz, bodies against each other, both wordless. The only barrier between you now is the fine wrapping on your skill-covered fingers.

‘Closer,’ you whisper, and when he lowers himself so that his weight is partly on you and your heart is beating against his your voice breaks as you add ‘ _Fitz_ …’

He is kissing you again, desperate, and you curl one hand into his hair, tugging him closer, closer. You slip the other hand down between your bodies and Fitz moans quietly into your kiss. You know him well nowadays, know exactly how to use your fingers to make him make those little sounds in the back of his throat. Not to be outdone, Fitz abruptly moves his kissing to your throat again, leaving you gasping and running your fingers along his scalp.

You finish only slightly out of sync with each other, and Fitz allows himself to collapse in a heap next to you. He’s breathing heavily; your heart is still racing. You turn to curl into his arms, two parts of a whole and yet each whole alone – possibly, no, certainly, this is the greatest miracle of your life.


End file.
